


Birth Day

by Dee_Laundry



Series: My Fathers' Son [5]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Domestic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-29
Updated: 2009-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 22:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dialogue-only ficlet in the MFS 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birth Day

Interesting that men were so intimidated and humbled by the pain of childbirth that they had to find a way to make it women's fault.

House, we're kind of busy here, so --

The man said, "The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me from the tree, and I ate." To the woman God said, "I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth. In pain you will bring forth children; yet your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."

Where did you get a Bible?

Woman next door.

You stole a Bible from a woman in labor?

Nope.

You actually asked? And I didn't hear any yelling, so it must have been politely. Wow, God really does work in mysterious ways.

You're an ass. And what I meant was she's not in labor any more. Snoozing away with the fruit of her pain and travail.

Ah.

And then the guy tries to pretend his life is harder than all that.

I'm not --

Bible. "Cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. Both thorns and thistles it shall grow for you; and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you will eat bread, till you return to the ground." Yeah, eating bread, that's the same as having to squeeze the next generation of humanity out through your pelvis.

You're a secret feminist.

I'm an overt stupidity hater.

That too.

Where is she?

Seven centimeters.

This is taking forever, Wilson.

Blame the serpent.

Which is probably a metaphor for the penis, but I blame you.

Are you implying I'm God?

Uh, no. I'm just saying this whole thing was your idea.

You need a neuro check. This was _your_ idea.

It so wasn't.

It so was.

Wasn't. Yours.

It's too late to argue about it, anyway.

It's never too late to argue about anything.

I suppose you're right. Do _not_ turn to Leviticus, or you will feel my wrath.

Got any more snacks in that gigantic over-prepared overnight bag?

Of course. You can have... nuts. Or an apple.

I've already got a handle on good and evil, so I'll go with the nuts.

I think that's what got me into this.

Shut up and go coach Lowenstein into popping that kid out for you so she can go back to desiring her husband.

Will do.


End file.
